Illusion

Things are not always what they seem. Indeed, we are becoming aware of the fact that many attributes of the physical world are actually creations of consciousness. The fragrance of a rose is not to be discovered in its molecules, but rather in the interaction of those molecules with our sensing mechanisms and the subsequent interpretation of that interaction by our consciousness. Likewise, the red of the flower derives from the excitation of specific optic sensors by certain wavelengths of light, followed by our interpretive evaluation of the process. “Redness” is not in the light, but in our view of it. Similarly, the taste of rose-hip tea is not in the brew; it is in an interpretation of the relationship between our taste buds and the tea.



But if the apparent attributes of the physical world seem often to dissolve under our scrutiny, we are usually able to affirm the reality of things by saying: “Perhaps aroma, taste, sound, and color are all in my mind, but the object of our discussion is still there. I can touch it. I can feel it.” So it is that verification by the sense of touch is regarded as primary evidence that something really exists.



Consider what would happen, then, if our physical make up were somewhat different than it is – suppose that we were a thousand times stronger than we are, and that our touch sensors, in-stead of responding to something so slight as the brush of a feather, did not even register sensation until they were stimulated by a force equivalent to that of a hammer blow. And suppose someone said, “I believe there is a rose bush over there. It is red and brown and green. It smells like roses. It tastes like roses. And I hear the wind hissing through what seem to be petals and leaves. But perhaps it is an illusion, so will you go see if it is really there?”



Obligingly, we walk to the (supposed) rose bush, reach out, and touch it. Due to our great strength, our hand passes right through the entire bush (no doubt destroying it), but because the contact had not sufficient impact to trigger our sense of touch, we feel nothing. Turning to the questioner, we report, “Yes, it was an illusion. No rose bush is there.”



So what exactly do we verify by citing “I can touch it” as evidence that something exists? Not very much, really, except to acknowledge that within the narrow operating range of certain sen-sors, data can be collected. Change the operating range, gather different data, and an entirely altered picture of “reality” emerges. This possibility speaks poignantly to the ultimate enigma of physical sciences – that not only are the attributes of things the creations of consciousness, but so also are the things themselves.